Chapter 2: The Boy With Silent Eyes
The college campus felt too big.
Too loud.
Too alive.
Meera adjusted the strap of her bag as she stepped through the main gate, trying to steady her breathing. Students rushed past her in groups—laughing, calling out names, clicking selfies in front of the fountain like this was the happiest day of their lives.
Maybe it was.
For her, it felt like standing on the edge of something unknown.
She had imagined her first day of college a hundred times. She had imagined confidence. Excitement. A dramatic entrance with perfect timing.
Not slipping in the rain.
Not standing awkwardly beside a stranger whose eyes had seen straight through her.
Aarav.
The name floated back into her mind without permission.
She hated that.
Why was she thinking about him?
It was just one moment. One bus stop. One shared shelter. One bus ride.
People meet strangers every day.
People forget strangers every day.
So why did his voice still echo in her ears?
You close your eyes before it hits.
She shook her head slightly, trying to shake off the memory.
Focus, Meera.
Inside the main building, chaos ruled. Seniors directed students to classrooms, though half of them seemed more interested in intimidating freshers than helping them.
"First year commerce?" someone shouted.
She nodded quickly and followed the pointing finger down a long corridor.
The floors were still damp from students walking in with wet shoes. The smell of chalk dust mixed with petrichor hung in the air.
She stepped into Classroom 104.
Half the seats were already taken.
She scanned the room.
And there he was.
Back row.
Near the window.
Looking outside.
He wasn't talking to anyone.
Not checking his phone.
Not pretending to be confident like the others.
Just… watching the sky.
Her heart betrayed her with a small, sudden thud.
So he wasn't just a random stranger.
He was part of this story.
She quickly looked away before he could notice her staring.
There were only two empty seats left. One in the front row. One near the middle.
She walked toward the middle.
And just as she sat down—
She felt it.
That strange awareness.
Like someone had shifted their gaze.
She looked up instinctively.
He wasn't looking at the sky anymore.
He was looking at her.
Not intensely.
Not boldly.
Just… observing.
And when their eyes met—
He didn't look away immediately.
Neither did she.
The noise of the classroom seemed to blur for half a second.
Then someone dropped a metal water bottle loudly.
The spell broke.
He turned back toward the window.
And Meera realized her fingers were gripping her notebook too tightly.
What was wrong with her?
She wasn't like this.
She didn't get flustered by boys.
Especially not quiet ones who barely smiled.
The professor entered soon after—a middle-aged man with rectangular glasses and a strict expression.
"Welcome to your first year," he began, adjusting his file. "Three years from now, some of you will leave successful. Some of you will leave with regrets. It depends on how seriously you take today."
The room quieted.
Meera tried to focus, but her mind kept drifting backward.
To rain sliding down his face.
To the warmth of his hand when he caught her.
To the way he had stepped back into the rain when she hesitated.
Who does that?
Most boys she had known would have tried to impress. Smile too much. Talk too much.
But Aarav…
He spoke like words were expensive.
And emotions even more so.
"Introduce yourselves," the professor instructed. "We'll go row by row."
Oh no.
She hated introductions.
The first few students went smoothly. Name. School. Career goal. Polite applause.
Her turn came too quickly.
She stood up, smoothing her dupatta nervously.
"Hi… I'm Meera Sen. I completed my schooling from St. Thomas Higher Secondary School. I… I like painting and writing. And I hope to pursue something in finance."
Her voice sounded smaller than she intended.
A few nods.
Polite smiles.
She sat down quickly.
The row behind her stood next.
Her stomach tightened without reason.
And then—
He stood.
Even standing, he didn't look restless.
He didn't fidget.
He didn't clear his throat dramatically.
"I'm Aarav Malhotra," he said simply. "I studied at Greenfield Public School. I don't have a specific career plan yet."
That's it.
No hobbies.
No over-sharing.
No unnecessary details.
Just facts.
The professor raised an eyebrow. "No specific plan?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Confidence or confusion?"
A faint flicker crossed his face. Almost a smile.
"I'll let you decide that in three years."
A few students chuckled.
Meera felt something strange bloom in her chest.
Not attraction.
Not exactly.
More like curiosity.
He wasn't trying to be impressive.
He just… was.
When he sat down, he didn't look at her.
But somehow she felt like that answer had layers.
Confidence or confusion?
Maybe both.
The first half of the day passed in a blur of schedules, subject outlines, and instructions.
During the short break, the classroom erupted into chatter.
A girl with curly hair turned toward Meera.
"Hi! I'm Pooja."
"Meera."
"You seem quiet."
"So do you," Meera replied automatically.
Pooja laughed. "Trust me, I'm not."
They exchanged small smiles.
"Did you know anyone before today?" Pooja asked.
Meera hesitated.
Should she mention him?
No. That would sound strange.
"Not really," she answered.
As if summoned by the thought, Aarav stood up and walked out of the classroom.
Without speaking to anyone.
Without joining any group.
Just… leaving.
Pooja noticed.
"He looks intense," she whispered.
Meera's heart skipped.
"Who?"
"The guy near the window. Aarav, right?"
"Oh."
"You know him?"
"No."
Too quick.
Pooja smirked slightly. "You looked at him during introductions."
Heat rushed to Meera's cheeks.
"I did not."
"Relax," Pooja teased. "I'm not judging. He's kind of mysterious."
Mysterious.
Yes.
That was the word.
The break ended, and the next lecture began.
But Meera's focus remained fractured.
Why hadn't he spoken to anyone?
Why did he seem comfortable being alone?
Why did it feel like he carried something unspoken?
Classes ended earlier than expected.
The sky was clear now.
Sunlight reflected off wet pathways.
Students spilled out of the building, excited and loud.
Meera walked slowly toward the gate, scanning unconsciously.
There he was again.
Leaning against a tree.
Head slightly tilted back.
Eyes closed.
As if listening to something only he could hear.
She told herself not to look.
But she looked anyway.
And this time—
He opened his eyes exactly when she did.
Like he had sensed it.
Caught.
Her breath faltered.
He pushed himself off the tree and started walking in her direction.
Her mind scrambled.
Should she pretend she didn't notice?
Should she smile?
Should she say thank you again?
He stopped in front of her.
Not too close.
Just enough.
"You survived the first day," he said calmly.
She blinked.
"That's your opening line?"
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
"You prefer something dramatic?"
She surprised herself by replying, "Maybe."
A pause.
Then he said quietly, "You looked less scared today."
Her chest tightened.
"I wasn't scared."
"You were."
The certainty in his voice unsettled her.
"You analyze everyone like this?" she asked.
"No."
"Then why me?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
For a brief second, something changed in his eyes.
Something deeper.
Then it was gone.
"Because you notice storms before they arrive," he replied.
What did that even mean?
Before she could respond, a bike zoomed past dangerously close to her.
She stepped back instinctively—
And collided lightly into him.
He steadied her again.
Third time today.
She quickly stepped aside.
"Sorry."
"You should watch where you walk," he said.
"You should stop appearing everywhere," she shot back.
A rare thing happened.
He laughed.
Soft.
Brief.
But real.
And that sound did something to her.
Something she didn't understand yet.
"I don't appear everywhere," he said. "You just keep finding me."
Her pulse quickened.
"I wasn't looking."
"I didn't say you were."
Silence.
The air felt different now.
Less awkward.
More charged.
A group of boys called out his name from a distance.
"Aarav! Coming?"
He glanced at them.
Then back at her.
"I should go."
She nodded.
"See you tomorrow, Meera."
The way he said her name—
Not rushed.
Not careless.
Intentional.
She watched him walk toward his friends.
And for the first time, she noticed something important.
Even when surrounded by people—
He still looked alone.
That night, rain returned lightly.
Not a storm.
Just a quiet drizzle tapping against her bedroom window.
Meera sat at her study table, notebook open.
She tried to revise the subjects introduced today.
But her pen remained still.
Her thoughts drifted again.
To silent eyes.
To careful observations.
To a laugh that lasted barely two seconds.
She found herself writing without thinking.
Some people don't speak loudly.
But their silence echoes longer.
She stared at the sentence.
Then quickly shut the notebook.
What was she doing?
This was ridiculous.
It was day one.
She barely knew him.
Yet something about him lingered like unfinished music.
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.
And for the first time in years—
She didn't close her eyes before it hit.
Instead, she whispered softly into the quiet room:
"Who are you, Aarav Malhotra?"
Miles away, in another part of town, Aarav stood on his balcony, watching rain fall again.
His phone buzzed with group messages.
He ignored them.
Instead, his thoughts replayed one image.
A girl in blue.
Closing her eyes before thunder.
Arguing about dramatic opening lines.
Looking at him like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
He exhaled slowly.
"This wasn't part of the plan," he murmured to himself.
But the rain didn't answer.
And somewhere between falling drops and unspoken questions—
Two hearts had already begun memorizing each other.
Without permission.
Without understanding.
Without knowing that this was only the beginning.